


From The Darkness Comes

by kripkeisgod



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kripkeisgod/pseuds/kripkeisgod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Pendragon is one of the best paranormal investigators in England. He's also the most cynical; skeptical of all 'supernatural' occurrences, but all that could be about to change when he takes a job in the eerie town of Avalon and meets the mysterious Merlin. Will Arthur discover the terrible secret both the town and the man hide?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Dream? Or A Memory?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second Merlin fic and first venture into the horror genre, which is a little strange considering it is my favourite genre. This is a multi-parter based on the James Herbert novel 'Haunted', there are also references from 'The Dark' and 'The Ghosts of Sleuth' by the same author but all with my own twists. Hope you enjoy it and if you do please tell me! It encourages me to write faster ;) so any feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading! :)

 

**A Dream? Or A Memory**

 

The darkness seeped in, but this was no ordinary darkness. It was thick, suffocating, swallowing everything around it into its all-encompassing blackness. Perhaps the depth of the darkness was the result of superstition – the fabled 'witching hour', nothing more than a trick of the mind – or perhaps it was a reflection of the black shroud that had engulfed the day, a warning of what was to come. After all, foresight is most often, a terrible thing.  
However it wasn't the uncommon darkness that snatched the small figure curled-up tight in the bed from unconsciousness. No, it was the cold that woke the boy. There was a chill in the air – a bite that seeped in even through the locked window panes. The breeze was . . . unnatural – it seized it's icy fingers around the sleeping child and tightened it's unwelcome grip without mercy. It is unclear whether the shivers that racked the tiny frame into wakefulness were directly the result of the strange drop in temperature or more influenced by some sense of the terrifying wrongness in the atmosphere around him.  
  
The boy cracked his eyes open, half-expecting to see his breath in front of his face in the cold, half-wondering if he'd imagined opening his eyes in the first place as his barely-conscious state registered the total blackness surrounding him. Heart speeding slightly in his chest, the boy willed his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but to no avail.  
  
As the confusion of his sudden wakefulness subsided, the memories of the day before assaulted him cruelly forcing him to sit up with a jolt. He fought back the fierce, fresh burning in his eyes – all the more painful in the near-freezing temperature of the room.  
The salt of the now-dry tear-tracks stung his face. Daddy wouldn't be pleased to learn that his only son had cried himself to sleep that night. Dadd-his father, had always taught him that Pendragon men were strong, they didn't let something as petty as emotions blind them . . . he wondered if his father felt the same pain as him that night, and if he did, then how did he manage to stay strong against it? Perhaps his father was just naturally stronger than he would ever be, after all the man had managed to deal with the loss of his wife, the boys mother amiably well . . . although sometimes the boy couldn't help but feel that his father blamed him for that. He had never known his mother, she had lost her life bringing his into the world – maybe it was his fault after-all. Maybe this was his fault too, maybe he was the one who deserved to be . . .  
  
The boy's thought process cut off abruptly as a slight movement caught his eye in the corner of the room. Slapping a hand over his mouth to prevent himself crying out in shock, lest his father hear – the boy quickly ducked his head under the pseudo-safety of his bed covers. His heart racing. After a few moments he calmed himself enough to berate himself for his actions. Surely at the age of nine years old he should be mature enough to face his fears. He was not weak. He was a Pendragon.  
Slowly the covers lowered over a tangled mop of blonde hair, continuing their decent over wide blue eyes until finally they pooled back down at the boys waist. Scanning the room the boy breathed a sigh of relief as  he saw that the movement was merely the slight shifting the curtains as his eyes finally became accustomed to the unusually thick cover of darkness. Calling himself all kinds of stupid the boy resolved to lock the window to keep the breeze out and then return to bed and try to forget about the event of the past 24 hours, at least for the night. Climbing out of bed he made his way over to the window as fast as he could without running. Reaching out toward the window the child was startled to find that it was already locked . . . so then where was the breeze coming from? It was too cold to be the usual drafts of the house.  
  
It was then that he heard it, behind him, by his bedroom door there was the sound of . . . laughter? It was feminine, soft and faint but it was unmistakably there. Spinning around the admittedly frightened child came face-to-face with . . . nothing. There was no one there and the laughter had abated the second he turned to look for the source.  
  
Breathing heavily the boy knew he should return to his bed, try to forget what had happened, the cruel trick this night and his own mind had played on him – or at least try to, but that's not what he did. You see a child's curiosity is a powerful thing and he couldn't help but wonder if it really was just his imagination or if there was something . . . more. Instead of returning to bed the boy found himself moving towards his bedroom door, hesitating for a moment with his hand on the handle before finally opening the barricade and escaping into the hallway beyond. Not entirely sure what he was doing, what he was looking for, the boy deftly and quietly made his way down past his father's bedroom and towards the stairs as if following some unique instinct that told him just where he needed to go. It seemed the instinct was correct as no sooner had he placed his foot on the top step than he heard the voice again. This time It spoke, unfamiliar words that seemed to draw him in with their melody like some morbid lullaby.  
  
 _“Tywyllwch”_ *  
  
He followed the voice further down the steps.  
  
 _“O'r tywyllwch ddaw”_ **  
  
He followed it to the bottom of the steps and down the hallway left of them.  
 _  
“O'r tywyllwch ddaw y golau”_ ***  
  
He followed it to the door of the luxurious guest sitting room.  
  
 _“Arthur”_  
  
He froze, hand still gripping the door handle.  
 _  
“Arthur”_  
  
He released the handle as though it burned and quickly stepped back from the door. The spell was broken – hearing that voice say his own name had snapped him from the trance. Registering where he was Arthur began to panic. He knew what was beyond that door. He knew and he wasn't ready to face it. He didn't think he ever would be ready.  
  
 _“Arthur”_  
  
The voice sounded impatient now – it wanted him to go inside. Why did it want him to go inside? He couldn't do it.  
  
 _“Arthur”_  
  
No. Why was it doing this? He knew what had happened, but it wasn't his fault! It was an accident!  
  
“Please, I didn't know. It wasn't my fault. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”  
  
The voice didn't listen to his furious whispers, it grew louder, more insistent. Now it seemed there were multiple voices, all variations of the first and they just wouldn't stop!  
  
 _“Arthur” “tywyllwch” “Arthur” “o'r tywyllwch ddaw” “Arthur” “o'r tywyllwch ddaw y golau” “Arthur”_  
  
Arthur covered his ears, tried to block out the sound – but it didn't work, nothing worked.  
  
 _“Arthur” “tywyllwch” “Arthur” “o'r tywyllwch ddaw” “Arthur” “o'r tywyllwch ddaw y golau” “Arthur”_  
  
Arthur grabbed the door handles and flung the barrier keeping him from the room open. Immediately the voices ceased.  
  
Eyes fixed on the object ahead of him, Arthur tentatively entered the room and slowly made his way towards it. Finally reaching his destination the boy grasped the last of his courage and looked down upon the still body laying inside the open casket.  
  
The girl – no, she hadn't been that for a long time – the woman, was beautiful even in death, the faint, respectfully dim lights placed behind the casket only served to highlight her beauty. She seemed to be merely sleeping, the sickly-grey pallor of  death only just beginning to over-take her features. Perhaps this shouldn't have been as surprising as it was, after-all it was only mere hours ago that those cheeks held the rosie-pink flush of life and now here she was, on display, ready for her final goodbye before the body was removed for the funeral preparations. The police hadn't been involved, there was no need, Arthur had heard his father on the phone stating 'what was the point in investigating when I already know how she died'. When you had as much money and influence as the Pendragon's buying some time for your final farewell was all too easy. The casket his father had demanded be brought around by the under-takers was too big for the woman's frame, making her seem small and fragile in comparison when in life she was anything but. Arthur missed her already – if only he hadn't . . . but it was too late for what-if's now.  
  
Holding back the tears once more Arthur reached out intending to brush a lock of hair from that pale face. As his hand neared the woman's cheek suddenly her hand shot out grabbing his wrist in a vice-like grip. This time there was no way he could hold back the scream as those lifeless eyes snapped open, and burned gold.  
  
 _“Mae'r golau sy'n llosgi”_ ****  
  
TBC.


	2. Welcome To Avalon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took way longer than I expected it to! I blame my brother entirely because he stole my laptop for the whole of the Olympics to watch Boxing! Well, I've got it back now anyway so as an apology of sorts this chapter is extra-long! Enjoy! :)

Welcome to Avalon

 

 

Arthur awoke with a start.

 

His mouth instantly clamped down on the half-formed scream waiting to emerge when he registered where he was. The train was mostly deserted by now but was still public enough to stem any outbursts Arthur could make to inadvertently draw attention to himself. As the train pulled away from the station it was resting at, the constant rocking motion of the now moving carriage lulled Arthur's racing heart back to it's usual calm rhythm. The relaxing constant motion of the train must have sent him to sleep, long train journey's always seemed to have that effect on him.

 

The dream was fading now, losing it's clarity in the daylight.

 

_Just a dream._ That was the mantra that ran through Arthur's head. For how could it be anything else? Surely if there was any substance to it then he would have remembered – he was only twenty-six for God's sake! And no matter what that shrink had told him about a child's ability to repress traumatic memories there was simply no way someone could block something like that - there's no way something like that could even happen! It was absurd to think that it could. No, it was just the workings of an imagination he's thought long-since dead.

 

_Just a dream._ The same dream he'd been having night after night for as long as he cared to remember. Why was it always the same? And how did still manage to terrify him like nothing else could?

 

_Just a dream._ So then why did it feel so real? Why did his heart ache with guilt and . . . something else that he couldn't place for the woman, the corpse that he could no longer place upon his waking?

 

As the train passed through a tunnel Arthur stared at his reflection on the window and imagined it was her face he saw there rather than his own. Reaching out to touch the cool glass with his fingertips he saw her image slowly fading in his minds-eye like the rest of the dream. He no longer recalled her features but somehow he still sensed her beauty and her strange familiarity though her name was lost to him.

 

Arthur was wrenched out of his morbid musings when the train suddenly sped out the other side of the tunnel. Confronted with the brightness of the day once more he dropped his hand from the window and shook his head to clear it of mysterious dark-haired women and the horrifying dreams they inhabit.

 

Looking down Arthur caught sight of the file to the case he was about to embark on open on the small table on front of him. He supposed he must have planned to read through it again and familiarize himself with the facts before his body had decided on its own course and led him to sleep.

Well, it looked like a fairly standard job anyway. There was nothing from the reports or briefings that jumped out at him as unusual . . . well, for his line of work anyway. All in all it should be a relativity quick investigation – a few days work perhaps to ensure he'd covered all the bases, but no more. Feeling more optimistic about the journey Arthur waved the attention of the train attendant as she passed through the carriage. Approaching him with a friendly smile the woman politely asked:

 

“Is there something I can help you with sir?”

 

“Um, yes, can you tell me how many stops are left before we reach Avalon please?”

 

“Avalon is our next stop sir and we should be arriving in about five minutes.”

 

“Thank you for your help.”

 

It seemed that was not to be the end to the conversation Arthur had anticipated as she glanced down at the files ion front of him and, curiosity peaked, took to quizzing the man on the name of the institute she had garnered from the official documents.

 

“Albion? Isn't that some kind of mental hospital in London.”

 

Taking a deep breath Arthur called on patience he did not possess to get through the conversation to follow.

 

“Research facility actually. Based in the outskirts of the city.”

 

“Research for what exactly?”

 

“Most prominently the so called 'psychic' and 'paranormal' phenomena.”

 

“Oh, really? I love a good ghost story – you don't sound like the type to be taken in by all that though . . .”

 

“I'm not. No matter what these mystics would have the easily charmed believe, in reality there is no such thing as supernatural occurrence. Anything and everything that seems unusual or out of the ordinary can be traced back to natural and rational causes, no hocus-pocus involved.”

 

“Well considering your carrying around documents from this famous paranormal research facility, I'm guessing you work there? Now, with your attitude to 'hocus-pocus' as you put it being what it is – I can't help but wonder . . . why? Seems and unusual career choice for a man such as yourself.”

 

“A man such as myself? You mean a realistic man? Officially I am employed as an investigator to tackle the claims of paranormal activity and either prove or disprove them. As yet I haven't proved a single one and nor will I. There are too many frauds who declare themselves 'spiritualists' to prey on the grieving and gullible. There are too many people fearing the bumps in the night that can be easily explained away. I want to show people that there is nothing to fear, that this 'paranormal society' we seem to exist in is based on nothing but lies and superstition – and so far, I've done a pretty good job.”

 

“Well, you put forward a very convincing argument sir – although I would say that if you're heading to Avalon . . . I assume it's not on pleasure?”

 

“No, no, purely business. We were contacted by a family there who wanted our . . . help. The details are confidential though, as I'm sure you understand.”

 

“Of course . . . It's just . . . well, there are stories about Avalon. People say something happened there – something awful, it was a long time ago and no one who knows what happened are keen to share . . . but they say that the whole town's cursed! That it's infected by what happened – that's why no-one goes there anymore, too afraid I suppose. Never been myself, but I hear it's nearly derelict, a practical ghost-town. No-one ever goes there and no-one ever leaves. I often wonder why the train still stops there. I mean it's probably just folk-lore and legend, in all likelihood the people there just prefer the quiet life and keeping to themselves, but you gotta admit, from the sounds of it it'd be the perfect location for a haunted house . . . If you believed in that sort of thing of course.”

 

“Yes, it's a wonderful story. Just be sure not to let your imagination trick you into forgetting that it is just a story. You seem sensible enough to rationalize between the tall-tales of superstitious old men and what you can see and hear for yourself, what you know to be true. That which you know is real and that which you believe is real are two very different concepts.”

 

As he finished his sentence the train shuddered to a stop.

 

“Well, I guess you're about to find out either way whether those stories have any truth to them . . . or not.”

 

With that she left for the next carriage along while Arthur quickly scooped up his files and put them back in his briefcase before dashing off the train and onto the rickety station platform.

 

So, this was Avalon.

 

Glancing around the deserted station Arthur smiled ruefully to himself, the setting wasn't exactly as horror-story worthy as the attendant seemed convinced of. All in all it was really rather . . . ordinary, well aside from the obvious signs of neglect to the buildings upkeep – but then, if it's true that the locals rarely use the station, then that's only to be expected. A little bit of peeling paint on the walls and a few overgrown hanging baskets held nothing overtly spooky about them. Huh, it must have been a while since this station was used, upon closer inspection the overgrown flowers in the hanging baskets were in fact withered and blackened . . . dead.

 

The shrill beep announcing the imminent closure of the train doors caused Arthur to glance back towards them. Strange, the train was preparing to leave but through the windows of the vehicle he could see the attendant he'd spoken to stood on the other platform. Her back was turned to him but he was sure it was the same woman – at that moment, the woman turned, her dark hair blowing back from her face in the slight wind – that face, that wasn't the face of the attendant he'd spoken to – yet he recognised it all the same . . . it couldn't be, it was just a nightmare . . . Arthur instinctively began to move towards the image as the woman's eyes landed on him and she smiled. His dazed progression was brought to a halt as the train began moving – the whole time he was waiting for the train to finish leaving the station Arthur was trying to catch a glimpse of the woman through the windows, but the train was moving too fast and when it was gone . . . so was the woman, as if she was never there.

 

Well, of course she wasn't really there, she was in all likelihood just a combination of a recently stimulated imagination and a lack of restful sleep. The dream must have effected him more than he thought. Arthur shook his head, silently berating himself for his moment of stupidity – seeing things that aren't there, he was paid to prove such things didn't exist, he was better than this . . . and God he needed a drink right about now.

 

Checking his watch Arthur saw that his train had arrived right on time, so where was the client? The arrangement was that Arthur would be picked up straight from the station and taken to the house. Maybe they'd been delayed or simply forgotten what time Arthur's train was due in at the station, which would just be typical of Arthur's luck wouldn't it?

 

Turning and walking closer towards the entrance of the station Arthur saw what looked like a pub on the other side of the street – no scratch that, it was definitely a pub . . . mocking in it's invitation and promise of alcohol while Arthur was stuck waiting across the road. Looking back down at his watch and checking the streets for any sign that his client was arriving. Tipping his head back Arthur let out a frustrated sigh, he was technically on the job from the moment he stepped foot in the town – it was only right to be a professional and simply wait for his client to show up.

 

After ten minutes waiting on the deserted street with no imminent sign of life gave up fighting with temptation. After all it was only across the street and at least he's be comfortable in the pub if he was in for a long wait.

 

Mind made up Arthur crossed the road and entered the small pub. Once through the inner door Arthur was hit with how . . . nice the atmosphere was, it was traditional, homey . . . and surprisingly full given the lack of life outside. Nearly every table was occupied with people all involved in their own conversations or activities – not one even spared him a glance in his direction when he walked through the door. Letting his eyes take a final sweep of the room Arthur made his way to the bar and was promptly approached by a bartender with the wildest hair Arthur had ever seen, it looked long and windswept even indoors. The admittedly handsome man grinned brightly at Arthur before asking.

 

“Alright mate? What can I get you?”

 

“Johnny walker blue label.”

 

The bartender let out a snort before asking: “O.k. Princess, exactly where do you think you are?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You need to learn how to take a joke mate – look, all I’m saying is . . . take a look around, this is a small pub with a small local trade. The takings aren't high enough to cater to those with more expensive tastes. If I tried stocking whiskey of that price regularly, this place would go under within a week – no point buying what you can't be sure you'll sell, that's the fastest way to bankruptcy.”

 

“I suppose that makes sense . . . just wasn't thinking I guess – well not past the thought of really needing a strong drink anyway.”

 

“Yeah, you look like you could use one. Look, if it's whiskey you want then I can fix you up a shot of Jack Daniels . . . If that meets with His Majesty’s approval of course . . .”

 

“Jack Daniels will be fine, thank you.” Arthur bit out through gritted teeth – he really wasn't in the mood for this.

 

“Excellent” came the bartender's reply, he seemed oblivious to Arthur's mounting frustration as he stooped to collect the glass from under the bar. Arthur's brow knitted into a frown when the man emerged with two glasses rather than one, both of which he placed upon the bar between them before looking up to engage Arthur in his one-sided banter once more.

 

“So, does the King have a name?” He asked with a grin.

 

After a moment the blonde reluctantly supplied: “Arthur, my name's Arthur.”

 

“Hmm, fitting . . . King Arthur comes to Avalon – well this is an honour _sire.”_ The words were mocking, obviously intended to provoke a reaction as the bartender filled both glasses with a small amount of whiskey.

 

Ignoring the sarcasm Arthur continued to indulge the other man: “not a King – although my life might be a lot simpler if I was . . . and I only ordered the one drink . . .”

 

“I know – the other's mine, and the name's Gwaine by the way. Saves you struggling to decide how to address me, like you just were.”

 

“Should you really be drinking on the job Gwaine?”

 

“Perks of being the owner of this place. All the alcohol here is paid for by me so by rights, I can drink as much of it as I like.”

 

“Well, that's an . . . interesting take on business.”

 

“Hey you only live once.” Gwaine grinned as he picked up one of the glasses and tipped the contents down his throat in one go, wincing at the burn.

 

Arthur picked up his own drink and took a smaller sip before saying.

 

“I hope you realize that I am only paying for the one drink that I ordered . . .”

 

“Aw, come-on, where's your sense of charity? You seemed to have one earlier when you were willing to spend ridiculous amounts on a ridiculously expensive Scottish whiskey.”

 

“Yes, well, my charitable side tends to disappear when faced with apparently mildly alcoholic but still semi-successful pub landlords.”

 

Gwaine laughed at that. “Well, in that case, that'll be £2.50.”

 

Reaching into his pocket Arthur pulled the necessary coins out and pushed them across the bar towards Gwaine before taking another sip of his regular-priced whiskey.

 

As Gwaine moved to put the money in the till he asked.

 

“Not that you're not welcome here or anything – but we don't get many visitors around here . . . any particular reason you came to Avalon?”

 

“I'm here on a job actually, come to think of it you may be able to help me. You see, the people I was contacted by arranged to meet me straight from the station - only that didn't happen and I have no idea about making my way to their house on my own . . . but being a local, maybe you could point me in the right direction?”

 

“This place got a name at least?” Gwaine smirked.

 

“Yes, Camelot house.”

 

The second the words left his mouth the whole room went deathly silent and all eyes turned to him. Even Gwaine had dropped his seemingly ever-present smile.

 

“I see, and exactly what business do you have up at Camelot house?”

 

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable Arthur shifted in his seat before warily replying.

 

“I think that's a matter best left between me and the residents of Camelot house . . . I'm sorry is there a problem here?” He asked, glancing round at the stony faces of his newly acquired audience.

 

“Not anything you'd understand . . . yet anyway.” The seriousness of Gwaine's voice was unnerving there wasn't even a hint of teasing and that made Arthur all the more uncomfortable.

 

Clearing his throat Arthur downed the rest of his drink before asking.

 

“Do you have a phone here?”

 

Gwaine pointed to the double doors that lead to the alcove between the inner and outer doors of the pub.

 

“Though there – I usually charge for use of it, but . . . consider this one on the house.”

 

“Thank you.” Arthur said quickly before standing and making his way towards the doors. As he passed through them he heard Gwaine's voice say “well, what are you all looking at? Go back to your own business or I'm closing up.” And finally the weight of stares left Arthur's back.

 

Shaking his head at the strange behaviour of the locals Arthur moved to the phone and dialled a familiar number.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Gwen was sat at her desk idly drumming her nails to a nameless tune on the surface in front of her. Most days she loved her job, being the sectary to the countries leading psychical research facility wasn't without it's fair share of entertainment to liven up the day . . . like George – a regular visitor to the institute who believed he had the unique ability to to talk to brass, he was a sweet guy though all things considered and Gwen supposed that that was the sole reason the owner of the facility Leon continues to indulge him while subtly working towards helping George to realize that perhaps a psychical institute wasn't the the correct institute he needed to seek help from.

 

Of course it wasn't just the more extreme cases of delusion like George that gave Gwen her passionate love for her job – it was the genuine cases that really resonated with her. Although these cases were few and far between – in fact for every ten people that walked through the facilities doors claiming to be psychic, seven were utter frauds, and two were completely delusional . . . but then there was the one, the one that was real, the one that could do extraordinary, unexplainable, fascinating things. The days when these few special cases came to them were rare, but they were the days Gwen lived for, to see Leon and the others help these amazing people to unlock and explore their gift, to see the beginnings of any understanding as to why they can do the things they can . . . It was simply incredible.

 

Of course as with all jobs there were the dull days, the days where you find yourself with nothing to do, the days where you almost feel you could die from the boredom, the days like today.

 

Gwen was just considering whether going to make a cup of coffee would be an effective enough break to the monotony of the day when the phone rang.

 

Jumping at the suddenness of the sound Gwen eagerly reached forward to take the call.

 

“Good afternoon, Albion Psychical Facility, how can I help you?”

 

“ _Guinevere, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice.”_

 

Gwen smiled at the familiar baritone coming through the phone.

 

“Hello to you too Arthur. I take it you're settled into the case then?”

 

“ _Not quite. I need to speak to Leon, is he around?”_

 

“No, he's out at lunch at the moment but he should be back any minute now . . .”

 

“ _It's o.k. I'll wait. Gives us a chance to chat anyway. How's that fiancée of yours doing? The two of you set a date yet?”_

 

“Lancelot's fine, we're waiting until we've saved up some more money before we start making any definite plans about the wedding, and don't think you got away with that one Arthur, you knew very well that I was going to ask you about the job and you tried to divert like you always do. How many times do I have to tell you that doesn't work on me?”

 

“ _As long as it takes my brain to quit thinking it's worth a shot.”_

 

Gwen laughed at that.

 

“So how is it so far?”

 

“ _Honestly? I really don't know how to answer that question – the locals here are . . . odd, lets leave it at that. You know, I seriously think this might be the weirdest case I've covered in my whole career and I haven't even met the clients yet!”_

 

 

 

“Oh come on, It can't be that bad, remember the church case a few years back? Anyway, how can you make any judgements on the case until you've met the people who hired you? Arthur Pendragon I do believe you're just over-exaggerating.”

 

“ _Easy for you to say, you're not here.”_

 

At that moment Leon walked through the door chatting happily to Alice, one of the institute's most powerful known psychics, about their upcoming session.

 

“Hold on a second Arthur, Leon's back – Leon!”

 

Turning towards the call Leon smiled at Gwen before asking what the matter was.

 

“It's Arthur, he's on the phone – he says he needs to speak to you.”

 

Looking conflicted Leon glanced towards Alice who smiled indulgently at him.

 

“Go ahead dear, I can wait five minutes for you to talk to Arthur – besides, we all know how impatient he can get.”

 

Laughing Leon moved towards Gwen's desk and took the phone receiver from her outstretched hand.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

As Arthur waited for Gwen to inform Leon of his urgent need to speak to the man, he busied himself by looking around the small alcove and finally out the windows on the doors of the pub. What he saw there was . . . unusual to say the least. Across the street he could see the station, but that wasn't what had caught his eye, no, a little further up the road from the station he could see a group of maybe four or five children all aged around six – eight years old. They hadn't been there when Arthur had entered the pub and there didn't seem to be any signs of any parents to keep watch of their young children – neither fact was overtly strange on the surface, after all the children could have only recently decided to play outside and it being such a small village, perhaps their parents trusted them to play unsupervised and remain safe. No, what bothered Arthur was that since he had caught sight of the children, all through his musings he hadn't once taken his eyes off them – as they hadn't once taken theirs off him.

 

“ _What do you need Arthur? . . . Arthur? . . . Can you hear me? . . .Arthur!”_

 

Snapping out of his Arthur quickly looked down and away from the mildly disturbing sight before forcing himself to answer.

 

“Yeah Leon, I'm here – just got a bit distracted there.”

 

“ _That's unusual for you – are you sure you're o.k?”_

 

“I'm fine Leon, really.”

 

“ _Well, if you're sure – what was it that you needed?”_

 

“Do you have the file on the case I'm meant to be working?”

 

“ _The one at Camelot house?”_ Leon spoke clearly as some rustling was heard in the background, presumably Gwen digging out the required file.

 

“Yeah, that's the one.”

 

“ _Hold on a sec . . . Ah, here we go, the Emrys family, what was it you wanted to know?”_

 

“I was just wondering if you had the their contact details, phone number, address, anything like that?”

 

“ _Sorry, no – they only ever phoned us and when they did it was from a private number, they never provided an address outside the name Camelot house either . . . they didn't need to given that they were supposed to be making arrangements for your transport . . .”_

 

“Yeah, well, that's not going exactly to plan – maybe you should consider changing the policy to ensure contact details are provided prior to an investigator being sent out . . . hang on, there's a phone book here, what was the family name again?”

 

“ _Emrys.”_

 

Scanning through the book, Arthur found . . . not a single Emrys.

 

“Great, they aren't listed . . . I get the feeling they like their privacy.”

 

“ _Well you can't blame them for that – what's happened?”_

 

“Nothing – and that's just the problem. What were the arrangements again?”

 

“ _The man I spoke to on the phone told me that he would be meeting you personally down at the station shortly after your train arrived and he'd take you up to the house. The man went by the name of Gaius. Why? Hasn't he shown?”_

 

“Obviously not Leon, otherwise I wouldn't be talking to you right now, I'd be on my way there.”

 

“ _He's probably just gotten held up somewhere. I think the best thing you can do right now is to go back to the station and wait for him. Give him half an hour and if he still hasn't shown then phone back and we'll make arrangements to have you brought back to London and the case closed down o.k.?”_

 

“O.k. Fine . . .”

 

“ _Look, I'm sorry but I really have to go now Arthur, Alice is here and this is cutting into her session.”_

 

Arthur snorted at that

 

“ _Not a word Pendragon – I know you don't believe that psychic phenomena is real but even you haven't got a solid explanation for some of the things she can do.”_

 

“Yet.”

 

“ _Goodbye Arthur.”_

 

“Bye Leon.”

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Hanging up the phone Leon turned to Alice who was stood closer than before, looking faintly troubled.

 

“Alice, is something wrong?”

 

“No, it's just . . . when you mentioned Camelot house – it's just . . . I really didn't think they'd find anyone willing to buy the place . . .”

 

“You know of it then?”

 

“Oh, yes – I used to live in Avalon . . . but that was many years ago, before they changed the name . . . funny that they changed the whole town but Camelot house is still Camelot house . . . you'd think f they were trying to chase away bad memories . . .”

 

“Well, obviously whatever happened wasn't enough to change such an old and historic building – from the background-check, the house has been standing for hundreds of years and with a few touch-ups along the way, it's still going strong . . . with long-time residents to boot.”

 

“Long-time?”

 

“Yeah, apparently the Emrys family have owned Camelot house for generations – or at least, that's what the client, Gauis, told me anyway.”

 

“Gaius?”

 

“Yeah, Gauis, are you sure you're o.k. Alice? We can always call off the session for today and reschedule when you're feeling more up to it?”

 

“No, no, I'm fine – it's nothing . . . Just a little nostalgic I guess. You see Gauis was a friend of mine. It really has been far too long since I visited him . . . he probably wouldn't even want to see me now . . .”

 

“Don't talk like that Alice, true friends stay friends no matter how long it's been. Tell you what, how about I make us a nice cup of tea before we start today?”

 

“That'd be lovely, thank you dear.” She smiled. As Leon turned and walked away she frowned and muttered to herself: “He stayed . . . why did he stay?”

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Arthur listened to the buzzing of the receiver for several moments after Leon hung up. Finally taking the receiver from his ear and placing it back in it's cradle, Arthur walked outside the pub. Instead of crossing the road straight away, he looked at the station for several minutes, pulling his coat tighter around himself to shield against the sudden chill in the air. Eventually Arthur let his eyes trail up the street slightly and found the children still there . . . thankfully their attention seemed to have been diverted from him. Now they were clasping one-another’s hands and dancing round in a circle, singing a nursery rhyme – yet there was no childish joy in the action, the whole thing seemed sombre . . . morbid – as though the children understood the pain, fear and death that had originally inspired the lyrics to their ditty:

 

“ _Ring-a-ring o' roses,  
A pocket full of posies,  
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!_

_We all fall down.”_

  
  


So caught up was Arthur in watching the children's unusual behaviour that he didn't register anything else around him – and so it was that he jumped and very nearly bit his lip off, containing the urge to yelp in surprise as a hand clasped onto his arm from behind.

  
  


TBC . . . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next chapter: Merlin!! Please remember to review! :)


	3. Merlin

**Chapter 3: Merlin**

 

Spinning around Arthur instantly found himself face-to-face with . . . the most beautiful man he had ever seen. He had a messy mop of black hair that served to highlight his naturally pale face even more, but he didn't look sickly in the way that some pale-faced people did, quite the opposite in fact. He seemed to glow with a kind of ethereal beauty, his high, prominent cheekbones and gorgeous sparkling blue eyes (the likes of which Arthur had never seen before – he almost felt he could drown in them) only served to emphasize his stunning other-worldly appearance all the more. He almost didn't seem real, like he was in reality some fae-like creature come to tempt the mere mortals with his untouchable presence. A more gullible man would have believed he were so, and if there was one thing Arthur Pendragon was not, it was gullible. No matter what fantastical thoughts this man's great beauty may inspire, he was still as human as anyone else – although Arthur did spare a thought that perhaps taking this job hadn't been such a bad idea after all. Breaking out of his musings Arthur realized that the man was speaking . . . well more, babbling, to be precise.

 

“Sorry. I'm so sorry Mr Pendragon I didn't mean to startle you. You are Mr Pendragon aren't you? Of course you are, what am I saying – we never get visitors here and I know every . . . everyone in town so there's no one else you could be . . .”

 

Arthur chose to cut the man off before he got stuck any further.

 

“It's alright, It was my fault really anyway – I should've been paying more attention to my surroundings. I'm Arthur Pendragon and I'm assuming you're from Camelot house? Gaius is it?”

 

“Oh, no. I mean I am from Camelot house, but I'm not Gaius. Gaius is my uncle, he was supposed to meet you today but he's getting on a bit and getting into town isn't as easy for him as it used to be so I insisted that I come and meet you instead. It took some persuading though, he really is a stubborn old mule at times, that's why I was late getting here – I really am sorry about that.”

 

“O.k. So you're Gaius's nephew? Do you have a name?”

 

“Oh! Oh, right – I'm Merlin.”

 

“Well  _Mer_ lin it's certainly nice of you to actually show up.”

 

“Hey I just explained why I was late, there's no need for you to be such a prat about it!”

 

Sighing Arthur pressed his fingers to his eyes for a moment. He honestly had no idea why he had reacted like that – Merlin had a perfectly reasonable excuse for not being on time. This town must've gotten to him more than he thought and getting on the defensive with his new client wasn't the way to go. Dropping his hand back down to his side he looked up to see Merlin staring back at him curiously, with a hint of annoyance lingering in his eyes.

 

“I know, I'm sorry. That was really unprofessional of me, do you think maybe we could just start over and pretend that little slip never happened?”

 

Merlin searched his face as he spoke and as he did the annoyance faded from his eyes to be replaced with something resembling concern.

 

“Hey, are you o.k? It's just you seemed a little . . . jumpy earlier and now you look a little – I dunno, stressed?”

 

“I'm fine, really. It's just that earlier I was distracted by . . .”

 

As Arthur turned to look towards the children he'd seen earlier he saw . . . nothing. They were gone as though they'd never been there in the first place. Looking back round he saw Merlin craning his head around Arthur's body to see where Arthur had glanced, a frown marring his face. As Arthur turned fully Merlin returned his questioning gaze to the blonde.

 

“ . . . nothing. It – it was nothing. Just a little light-headed from the whiskey I had I guess . . . and well that bartender's not exactly the most . . . professional I've ever met . . .”

 

While Arthur fought through his fumbled, confused excuse Merlin's expression morphed into a kind of fond exasperation.

 

“You mean Gwaine? I wouldn't worry too much about him, he drinks about as much as he sells. I swear, I'm completely astounded to the fact the man even still has a liver!”

 

Arthur smiled despite himself at that.

 

“You know him well then?”

 

“Well you don't have to have known him long to know his drinking habits far exceed the norm, but yeah I do. He's one of my oldest friends actually and I guarantee he's not quite so brash once you get to know him . . . or maybe you just get used to it over time.”

 

“Well I'll have to take your word for it, it's doubtful that I'll be around long enough to see for myself.”

 

Merlin tilted his head and considered Arthur closely.

 

“You really are sceptical aren't you? You really think you can explain away everything that's happening up in the house so quickly? That you can fathom it all out that easily? . . . I suppose we'd better start making our way up there then, after all I wouldn't want to put a dent in your investigative record by keeping you away from the house any longer. The car's this way.”

 

That said Merlin turned and began making his way down the street, Arthur following a moment later.

 

“Car? Is the house far from the village then?”

 

“Not too far, but we are on the outskirts so it's still far enough to make driving quicker and easier. Easier because the houses grounds are located at the top of a fairly steep hill leading to the woods, that gives us a fair bit of seclusion and it's easy to get lost if you don't know the way, so unless you'd rather face the trek on foot the car is the safer option.”

 

“A car ride will be fine, I was only asking . . .”

 

“In a very prattish manner, you really should work on that you know - no one likes a haughty show-off, especially around here.”

 

“I am not a haughty show-off!”

 

“You just keep telling yourself that, maybe you can even convince someone other than yourself of it someday.”

 

Having now reached the car Arthur paused outside the passenger door and watched as Merlin made his way round to the driver's side.

 

“You know, I've never met anyone quite like you before Merlin. I think I'm starting to like you already.”

 

Merlin smiled at that.

 

“Well, I suppose, all things considered, that you're not so bad yourself . . . for a pompous git.”

 

“You see, that's what I mean – No one's ever spoken to me like that before.”

 

“More's the pity, I figure taking you down a peg or two will do you the world of good – We may be paying you to investigate the house but that doesn't mean I have to bow at the feet of the great paranormal investigator now does it?.” Looking up, a flicker of passing concern glanced across Merlin's face. “We better be off then, looks like it's going to chuck it down with rain.”

 

That said Merlin opened the driver's side door and climbed in leaving Arthur still stood outside the car. After a moment Merlin seemed to notice this and proceeded to lean over the passenger seat and look out the window at Arthur.

 

“Well Mr Pendragon, are you coming or not?”

 

Still smiling Arthur waited for Merlin to move back to the driver's seat before opening the passenger side door and slipping in himself. Once seated Arthur turned to Merlin, placing a hand on the man's arm to halt him placing the keys in the ignition he waited for Merlin to look up at him with questioning eyes.

 

“Arthur, my name is Arthur and I think I’d prefer it if that's what you called me from now on.”

 

Merlin seemed to hesitate at the strangely soft look adorning Arthur's face for a moment before he finally allowed a small, shy smile to grace his lips.

 

“Alright, let's go . . . Arthur.”

 

“Much better.”

 

With a squeeze to Merlin's wrist Arthur released the raven's arm and allowed him to finish the necessary steps to starting to car. Within a few seconds the engine was roaring and the car was pulling away from the quiet street, heading instead for the small dirt track leading up into the woods at the outskirts of the town.

 

A few moments of silence passed before Arthur decided to pick up his banter with the beauty seated next to him.

 

“So, you mentioned that I'm a 'great paranormal investigator'?”

 

“Well, I've heard you're the best . . . and we need the best.”

 

“Does that mean that you think I'm the best man for the job  _Mer_ lin?”

 

“Now don't get full of yourself, I never said that. To tell you the truth I didn't know anything about you. It was my brother that recommended we call you, he's somewhat of a fan I think – read all your books and everything so when the issue of hiring a paranormal investigator was raised naturally he jumped to you.”

 

“Your brother?”

 

“Gilli, he's a little younger than me but at times I think he's by far wiser than I could ever be.”

 

“I see, you shouldn't put yourself down like that you know . . . do you have many family members? Residing in Camelot house I mean.”

 

“A few. There are five of us all together. Me, my two brothers, my sister and of course Uncle Gaius . . . but you'll meet them all soon enough, just hope that they can do a better job of holding their tongues than me, otherwise it won't be the activity of the house that sends you running.”

 

“And you expect that it will? That whatever is happening in your house is without logical explanation? That it will terrify me enough to flee your house of horrors?”

 

“You shouldn't mock what you're yet to understand.”

 

“I've yet to find anything I couldn't understand and explain, so why shouldn't I have a little fun with it?”

 

“You think we haven't tried to explain it all away? The things we've heard, the things we've . . . seen. We've torn that house apart and put it back together again trying to find the cause – but there isn't one. There is no explanation for the things we've experienced in that house. No . . . natural explanation at least.”

 

“And you really expect me to believe that?”

 

“Of course not. Not yet. Your equipment was delivered from your facility yesterday by the way, Gauis collected it. It's all at the house waiting for you . . . not that you'll need any of it to see what's happening for yourself. Whatever it is that's in our house – it's very . . . active.”

 

“You know, almost half of the cases I’ve had have been exacerbated in the 'victim's' mind through their own fear of what they perceive to be real. Identifying the 'activity' in your house as being an existing 'thing' only makes it more real to you and by extension more frightening.”

 

“So you're telling me you're not afraid of anything? That as long as you tell yourself it's not real then everything's alright? That the skeleton's in your closet don't exist just because you don't want them to?”

 

“Who says I have any skeleton's in my closet?”

 

“Everybody has at least one skeleton. One thing that they keep buried deep inside, hoping that no one else will find it. Your answer just makes me wonder what yours is, whether you even know what it is.”

 

“Interesting theory.”

 

Arthur feigned indifference to the conversation but in truth Merlin's words had spurred something inside Arthur – something long since forgotten, but it was a vague, hazy recollection and try as he might he couldn't grasp it, couldn't bring it to the forefront of his mind. It was just a feeling, with no substance. Sighing Arthur turned his attention to the passenger window. As he watched the trees lining the road fly past him, Arthur saw something that chilled him to the bone. It was the woman. The same one from his dream he was sure of it. She was stood in-between the trees at the side of the car but unlike the trees she remained constant, stationary. She remained in place at the side of the car even as the car sped on and she was smiling. The woman opened her mouth, it appeared she was about to speak.

 

“ _Arthur”_

 

Even the voice was the same.

 

“ _Arthur”_

 

This wasn't possible, it was just a dream!

 

“Arthur!”

 

Suddenly the voice was masculine and he was torn away from the image at the window by a rough shake of his shoulder – and then he was looking into the rich worried pools of blue that were Merlin's eyes.

 

“Arthur, are you o.k? You spaced out.”

 

Blinking rapidly Arthur took in his surroundings. The car had stopped and they were now in a driveway of some-sort. Looking over to Merlin he saw the man still surveying him with concern.

 

“Fine. I'm fine. What was it you wanted me for?”

 

Merlin looked at him for a long moment before nodding towards the wind-shield of the car.

 

“We're here.”

 

TBC.


	4. Camelot House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this took so long, I recently started my second year of uni and I’ve been swamped with work so I just haven't had time to do much writing! Sorry, hope you enjoy the new chap though. ;)

 

**Chapter 4: Camelot House**

 

Shaking himself fully out of his daze Arthur took in what the man next to him had said.

 

“Right, right of course . . . Best get on with it then.” He stuttered out before turning and reaching towards the door handle, but before he could escape the confines of the car, a pale hand landed on his arm and halted his movements.

 

“Arthur.”

 

Turning back toward the source of the voice Arthur looked into Merlin’s concerned gaze.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright? If you need a minute for . . . Whatever it was that just happened, we don’t have to go inside yet.”

 

Snapping his eyes from Merlin’s Arthur shook his head and protested:

 

“It was nothing, nothing happened. I’m fine . . . I just shouldn’t of been drinking so early in the day . . .”

 

“Well obviously it was something or you wouldn’t have reacted that way. God Arthur from the look on your face I honestly thought you were in danger of having a heart attack! You don’t get in that state from a slight drunken illusion. If you don’t want to tell me what really got you so worked up that’s fine, it’s none of my business, just please - don’t treat me like an idiot. Don’t lie to me and expect me to believe you’re fine when you’re obviously not. Look, I get it, you don’t know me and I don’t know you, so you don’t have to tell me anything about yourself outside of the job you’ve come to do . . . But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to help if there is something bothering you. Don’t get me wrong I’m not going to let you behave like an arse while you’re staying here just because you’ve obviously got some messed up shit going on with you that you’re not talking about, but I will say, that if it ever gets too much and you do decide you wanna talk about it - I’m here. I’m not much of a therapist but I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

 

Looking down at where Merlin’s hand still gripped his arm Arthur slowly raised his gaze until he once again met the other man’s eyes. Searching those deep pools of blue Arthur found only sincerity and compassion, the pity he expected was notably absent and he found himself strangely drawn to this man who could offer help and empathy to an almost complete stranger. Somehow the thought of being connected to Merlin in any way made him feel better. Looking into the man’s crystal blue eyes he felt strangely . . . At peace.

 

“Thank you, but honestly - I’m fine now, I swear.”

 

Merlin looked doubtful for second longer before finally releasing his grip on Arthur’s arm and moving back into his seat.

 

“Well, if you’re sure . . .”

 

“I am sure, and besides I still have a job to do don’t I? The amount of time you took to turn up and get us here I should charge double.”

 

“I wouldn’t pay it, I don’t accommodate prat-rates.”

 

Both of them stared at the other for a moment before bursting into laughter, both grateful for the quick move from such a serious conversation to the banter they found themselves falling into more and more. It was with a much lighter heart that Arthur exited the car, waited for Merlin to do the same and folded his arms across the roof of the vehicle, catching the other man’s eye Arthur grinned at him before announcing:

 

“You know, I actually think I’m going to like it here - this may well be shaping up to be one of my favourite cases, and I haven’t even done any investigating yet.”

 

“Am I getting special treatment Mr Pendragon or do you make your business to take the piss out of everyone who hires you?”

 

“Nope, only you - you’re already my favourite.” Arthur laughed with a wink.

 

Sniggering himself now Merlin replied: “Did you seriously just wink at me? Oh my God, clearly no one’s ever told you how decidedly unsexy you look when you’re trying to be suave.”

 

Rearing back dramatically Arthur placed a hand over his chest in a theatrical mockery of a sudden pain.

 

“You wound me Merlin! And I thought things were going so well. I thought we had a future together.”

 

Too busy laughing at his own joke Arthur never saw the smile fall from Merlin’s face; it was only when he looked back to Merlin and saw the grim and serious expression he had suddenly taken that Arthur began to wonder if it was something he said that had caused the change.

 

“Is everything alright Merlin?”

 

“Yes, fine, just . . . We better go inside, like you said, you do have a job to do - I don’t want to keep you from it, especially considering you’re here under our request.”

 

Without another word Merlin began to walk towards the large house, leaving Arthur no choice but to follow. The house itself from the outside was, simply put, breathtaking - It was a large manor and while its significant age was obvious it looked no worse for wear because of it. The long, searching vines that crawled up the yellowing bricks at the sides of the building combined with the close, surrounding trees to give the whole place, a mysterious, almost other-worldly feel. A place so beautiful and serene shouldn’t exist in the real world and yet, here it stood - from looking at it, it was hard to imagine how Merlin and the other townspeople had gotten the idea that such a place was haunted . . . It certainly didn’t look the part by any means, but then, the cause of the family’s paranoia was exactly what he was here to investigate. Maybe when he found out what was really causing the so-called ‘disturbances’ in the house he’d be able to give Merlin and his family some peace from the situation that was clearly plaguing them.

 

Upon reaching the front door of the building Merlin knocked twice with the ornate brass knocker attached to the beautifully stained dark wood. After a moment the door slowly opened, creaking on its hinges, to reveal a kindly-looking elderly gentleman. The man’s eyes seemed to light up at the sight of Merlin, a smile gracing his thin lips which soon diminished when the man took in Arthur stood beside the raven. A strange weariness seemed to enter the old man’s eyes as he looked upon the blond before he turned questioning eyes on Merlin. With a grim smile Merlin explained.

 

“This is Arthur Pendragon, the investigator who’s here to look into our . . . problem.”

 

The elderly man’s face became unreadable at that – after a moment, still looking towards Merlin and seemingly ignoring Arthur’s existence in its entirety, he let out a sigh and opened the door wide. Gesturing to the interior of the house he bit out:

 

“Well then, I suppose he’d better come in hadn’t he?”

 

Not quite knowing what to make of the as yet unknown man’s unusual behaviour, Arthur followed Merlin’s lead once again and entered the large manor. Once inside Arthur could guess that he was stood in some kind of foyer, as he took in his aged and spacious surroundings he noticed the old man was once again looking to Merlin wit some unvoiced question in his eyes, only this time he looked rather annoyed with the younger man. Whatever the man wanted Merlin clearly understood and was holding his own with a warning glare to his wrinkled counterpart and a minute shake of his head. The whole exchange, however brief, served to make Arthur . . . uneasy. But before he could dwell on that thought any longer his attention was summoned by Merlin clearing his throat an placing his hand on the elderly man’s arm before turning to address Arthur.

 

“This is my Uncle Gauis, the one who was supposed to meet you today before I intervened.”

 

At that the old man – Gauis – cast a quick glance towards Merlin before moving forward slightly as he spoke:

 

“Yes, I’m sorry about that – you see I forgot that you were due today and by the time I remembered I was in such a rush trying to get out in time Merlin had to practically wrestle the car keys away from me.”

 

Perfecting his most polite smile Arthur assured.

 

“It’s no problem, honestly – I completely understand, besides your absence allowed me to get acquainted with your . . . charming nephew, in your stead.”

 

For a moment, nothing else was said before Merlin broke the silence once again.

 

“Gauis, why don’t you go see if you can hunt down the others and get them all gathered in the dining room – I’ll show Mr Pendragon to his room.”

 

With one last glance towards Arthur and Merlin in succession Gauis quickly nodded his head and left the room. Once alone Merlin looked towards Arthur and said a brief. “Follow me” before heading towards the large stair case by the front of the room.

 

Hurrying to catch up with Merlin Arthur hoped that they’d be able to dispel some of the strange tension that had surrounded them now they were alone again.

 

“I thought I told you to call me Arthur.”

 

“Under the circumstances, Mr Pendragon seemed more polite – first introductions and all that . . . You’re room’s just down this corridor.”

 

Grabbing onto Merlin’s arm and halting his movement Arthur turned the man to face him.

 

“Have I done something to offend you Merlin?”

 

“No, why should you have?”

 

“It’s just that you were fine in the car but now, you’re suddenly acting really strange.”

 

“And how would you know if I’m acting strange or not Arthur? You don’t even know me.”

 

“No, I don’t know you – but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out there’s something bothering you . . .”

 

“Arthur, I appreciate you taking an interest but there’s nothing wrong . . . or, well, nothing more than usual.”

 

“And what does that mean?”

 

“It’s just . . . this house . . . it gets to you, you might not be able to feel it yet but the whole atmosphere here becomes – oppressive the longer you stay . . . I should be used to it by now but . . .”

 

“If the house makes you feel like that then why do you stay? Surely there’s somewhere else you could go?”

 

“I can’t – my whole life’s here, the house has been in the family for generations, as much as I hate it I could never just leave it . . . there’s too much history here. Plus I could never just abandon my6 family.”

 

“No one’s asking you to, they could go with you.”

 

“Gauis would never go – he’d never let the house go to some unknown stranger who doesn’t know the history, who isn’t family. It’s pointless even talking about this, it’s never going to happen.”

 

“It could.”

 

“Like I said, your room is just down that corridor, it’s directly opposite the bathroom and only a few door down from mine and Gauis’s rooms if you need anything . . . the only thing I would ask is – if you do need anything, please, come to me rather than Gauis. He’s not as young as he used to be and as much as he claims other wise he needs his rest.”

 

As he spoke he pointed to the direction of each room in turn and as he finished he trailed his eyes back to Arthur, looking for confirmation that everything he had said was understood. After receiving a slow nod of the head from Arthur Merlin began to back away the way they came.

 

“Well, I’ll just leave you to get settled in then – When you’re ready we’ll be waiting for you in the dining room, the first door on the right when you get to the bottom of the stairs.”

 

With that he was gone. Shaking his head Arthur walked towards the room he’d be staying in, all the while wondering whether the real mystery to be solved here were not the house but rather Merlin himself.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Ten minutes later Arthur re-emerged from the room free of the burden of his meagre luggage. Following Merlin’s directions, he soon found himself face to face with the dining room door. As he placed his hand on the handle, something about the situation struck him as odd. Supposedly the whole of the Emrys family that currently resided in Camelot house was behind this door, and from what Merlin had told him that was a few people, a few  _family_  members, so then why couldn’t Arthur hear any noise coming from inside the room? Not a single voice, no movement or conversation. For a moment Arthur was tempted to believe he’d somehow approached the wrong room . . . but then, even if that was the case, there was only one way to find out. Pushing on the handle Arthur opened the door and was confronted by five faces turning towards him at once.

 

Through the slight feeling of nervousness that erupted inside him, Arthur’s eyes immediately sought Merlin’s, the reassurance that simple act brought was both instant and overwhelming. While he still didn’t fully comprehend how Merlin could have such an effect on him, he decided that it was best not to think to much about it for now, for now he had some introductions to see to.

 

TBC

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: O.k. So like I said before I've had a lot of uni work to do recently so I haven't had time to write and I just want to warn you in advance, rather than just disappearing, that because I have a lot of assignments due in for December I will be taking a break from all fic-writing until Christmas. This doesn't apply immediately though, I do have one more chapter that I’m working on for this fic (because I don't feel too much happened this chap so I want to get a little further before I break off for uni coursework) that I'll post within the next week hopefully, but after that I won't be posting anything else until Christmas. Thank you all for reading and being patient with me!! Please remember to review. :)


	5. Meet The Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as promised here is the last chapter before I start focusing on my university exams. I think I got further with this one than the last. Enjoy the new chapter! :)

**Chapter 5: Meet The Family**

 

 

 

Clearing his throat Arthur began.

 

“Hello, I'm Arthur Pendragon . . .”

 

“Yeah, we already figured that one out.” Interrupted a male voice from the corner.

 

Merlin shot the man a warning glance before following it with a verbal reprimand.

 

“Gilli, what did I say? Behave.”

 

“Lighten up Merlin, I was only having some fun.”

 

“Yeah, well your brand of fun is an acquired taste.”

 

“That's what makes me so unique.”

 

“That's one word for it I suppose . . .look why don't we just get the introductions over with before anyone else decides to interrupt?”

 

Casting a quick glance at Arthur, Merlin began to single out each of the occupants of the room in turn.

 

Pointing to the aged man from before Merlin said: “You've already met uncle Gauis so that's one down . . .” Moving his attention to the man that had interrupted he continued “and I suppose you've already gathered that this is Gilli, my older brother, we spend a lot of time ignoring most of what he says – he thinks he's hilarious, the problem is no else agrees with him.” Next up was a pale, dark haired, nervous-looking girl who kept ducking her head to avoid making eye-contact with Arthur. “That's Freya, my sister – she's really shy especially around people she's never met so you'll just need to be patient with her.” Finally there was a dark-haired boy who couldn't have been more than ten years old stood next to Freya, something about the boy unnerved Arthur –he supposed it was the eyes, the boy hadn't taken his eyes off him since Arthur had entered the room, he just kept staring . . . and, God had he even blinked in the entire time they'd been in this room? “That's Mordred, my little brother, he gets curious around new people so don’t worry if he seems to start following you around a lot or staring - for him, that’s normal. And that’s everyone, so now you don’t have to worry about asking them all who they are, you can just . . . dazzle us with your investigatory prowess.”

 

Sending the other man a genuine and grateful smile Arthur responded.

 

“Thank you Merlin, although you could have been a little less sarcastic about my investigation skills . . . Now I’m sure you all know why I’m here . . .”

 

“Of course we do, we’re paying you to be here remember?”

 

“Gilli shut-up or I’ll shut you up”

 

Smiling briefly at the exchange Arthur tried again.

 

“Thank you Merlin, again, this would go much faster without interruption so if you don’t mind . . .”

 

Gilli raised an eyebrow in amusement at the request but acquiesced all the same.

 

“Alright, I’ll behave.”

 

“As I was saying, you all know why I’m here - you brought me here because you believe there is something in your house, something which you cannot explain away by yourselves, something you believe to be an physical entity, supernatural in origin, is that correct?”

 

Looking out among the faces of the room’s occupants Arthur saw none looked ready to answer, he spied Merlin looking around at his family members in the same manner until finally he found it was left to him to answer.

 

“It is.”

 

Shooting a quick smile at the man the blonde continued.

 

“Well, my job is to do a thorough investigation into these so-called disturbances you’ve all been experiencing and to find the reasonable and logical explanation behind them.”

 

“So you’re dismissing us already?” came Gilli’s voice once again.

 

“Gilli . . .” Merlin tried, but this time the warning fell on deaf ears.

 

“Do you think us stupid Mr Pendragon? Do you really think that if there were a natural explanation for what’s been happening here we wouldn’t of found it ourselves? You think any of us wanted to jump to the conclusion of a haunting? If you did, you’re wrong, that’s the last thing we wanted it to be and yet that’s exactly what it is. I thought your job was to help us, not insult us and dismiss our experiences as superstition and misplaced belief in the paranormal.”

 

“Gilli, that is enough!”

 

“No, it’s alright Merlin.” Interrupted Arthur. “He’s entitled to his opinion, after all I am only here by request. I don’t think you’re stupid Gilli, I don’t think any of you are stupid, I was merely trying to point out that in every case I’ve worked there has always been some natural explanation involved as there always should be. I’m not dismissing your claims by any means, but I do feel that for the residents of any house in question there can be no separation from it. This is your home, so of course you will do anything in your power to try and explain or find the cause of anything . . . unusual that may happen within it. I’m not suggesting for a moment that you are incapable of figuring out the cause on your own, I merely mean to say, that with the sentimentalities of living here you may of . . . overlooked something. My job is to help you, but not by telling you that your house is haunted, because it isn’t - Ghosts and the paranormal don’t exist outside of a person’s own personal perception, and I can prove that to you - I can help you feel safe in your home again.”

 

Arthur wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Gilli to start laughing.

 

“So let me get this straight you really don’t believe in ghosts? You’re a paranormal investigator who doesn’t believe in ghosts? How does that work? I mean I’ve read your books, but I always assumed that you were just saying all that spiel about there being no such thing as the paranormal so as not to scare the public . . . But you actually believe it - incredible.”

 

“It’s not a matter of belief, it’s a matter of fact - Ghosts and the paranormal don't exist and I’ve proved it - several times.”

 

“Ah, and you can’t be afraid of what doesn’t exist right? So, you really don’t believe in the supernatural? Not in ghosts? Or monsters? . . .”

 

At this point Freya and Mordred had began to laugh along with Gilli, with Freya offering a timid:

 

“Werewolves?”

 

To which Gilli responded by tipping his head back and letting out an exaggerated howl before coming back with:

 

“Vampires?”

 

Mordred smirked before offering:

 

“Wizards? And Witches?”

 

As the laughing died down to sniggers Merlin looked disapprovingly at each of his siblings in turn, for some reason Arthur could not comprehend, he turned the frostiest glare on Mordred who visibly shrunk away from the intensity of it. Merlin’s voice was sharp as he cut through the noise of the stifled laughter.

 

“If you’re all quite finished? Gilli, I know you know better than this - regardless of how different his beliefs are Arthur is a guest in our home, it was your idea to bring him here in the first place, you could at least show some courtesy rather than encourage the others to ridicule him with you. I can understand a joke, but that, that just wasn’t fair.”

 

Gilli merely smiled maliciously and replied: “Arthur is it? Is that what he’s having you call him? I did wonder for a moment there why you were getting so protective, but I think I see it now . . .”

 

“Don’t start Gilli.”

 

Gilli smiled again and moved away to stand by Gauis near the door. Merlin eventually shifted his gaze from Gilli and leveled it on Mordred.

 

“And you?”

 

Mordred looked abashed for a moment before smiling slightly as he turned towards Arthur.

 

“I’m sorry Mr Pendragon, I hope I didn’t offend you? I’d love to know more about the work your facility does with psychics.”

 

The boy spoke with the intelligence and maturity of an educated adult, it was an incredible sight.

 

“That’s alright Mordred, you didn’t offend me. As for the work of my institute, they're researching the perceived ‘psychic phenomena’, It’s a large part of their research actually - not that I’m sure of or even understand the results.”

 

“Is that another area of your research you don’t believe to exist?”

 

“You could say that, I know there is something to the phenomenon - I don’t believe that something is paranormal, or supernatural in origin, but it exists and I have yet to find an explanation for it. The current study of telepathy is . . . extraordinary.”

 

Mordred looked entirely too amused by the last part.

 

“And what exactly is telepathy?”

 

“In my belief telepathy or what people perceive as telepathy is no more than an . . . emotional transfer - people let so much go without realizing it through their body language and facial expressions, it’s easy to pick up on that subconsciously and convince yourself that a form of ‘mind-reading’ has occurred.”

 

“Really? So you don’t think that people could just genuinely have the ability to communicate on a different conscious plane?”

 

At that point Merlin shot another warning glance towards Mordred before announcing.

 

“I think that’s enough for tonight - maybe we should just start again in the morning?”

 

Gauis raised his eyebrow at Merlin in some unknown (to Arthur anyway) message as the others began to head for the door, and presumably, their rooms.

Before they left Arthur raised his voice to say:

 

“Well it was good meeting you all, I’ll need a day to investigate the house without any verbal influence, but after that I’ll need to interview each of you about your experiences if that’s o.k.?”

 

The three merely nodded their ascent before leaving the room, once they had Merlin turned to Arthur and said:

 

“Your equipment’s in one of the spare rooms, it’s just three doors down from this one, so if you want to get set-up then go right ahead.”

 

With that Merlin too left the room, along with Gauis, leaving Arthur alone to choose to either think on the strange first meeting with the family or to put it out of his mind and get to work.

 

+!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!

 

Making a start on unpacking some of his equipment proved a good distraction for Arthur, and the fact that afternoon had fallen into night during his ‘meeting’ with the Emrys family helped a great deal too. Arthur had always been in his element more during the night, he supposed it just came as part of the territory for being a paranormal investigator, after all in such a line of work acting predominantly at night was only to be expected.

 

Looking up from the single box he’d opened up fully Arthur figured that since he had the whole night ahead of him, now would be the perfect time to test some of the equipment - just to make sure it was all in working order and none of it had become damaged during the transport from the facility. Mind made up Arthur reached down into the box open in front of him and pulled out a large, but simple old Polaroid camera and a tripod. This particular piece of equipment, while it may seem relatively useless had actually been a huge help during many of his investigations. Arthur usually had the camera placed in one of whatever locations ‘paranormal hotspots’, rigged up with trip wires - effectively meaning if practically any movement took place in that location it would cause the camera to go off - and Arthur couldn’t even begin to count the number of blatant hoaxes he’d uncovered with the resulting photographs. Not that he suspected this particular case was a hoax . . . Although after his encounter with Gilli Arthur had admittedly given the idea a little more thought - but no, even Gilli seemed concerned by the happenings of the house, surely even he wasn’t that good an actor.

 

Sighing to himself Arthur set up the tripod and placed the inactive camera upon it. Lost in his thoughts of the family he’d so recently acquainted himself with and the new possibility of this whole thing being just another tiresome hoax Arthur found himself staring out of the long window on the far side of the room. He’d never bothered to close the curtains earlier when he’d snapped on the light to begin unpacking and now in contrast to the brightness of the room the dark outside of those panes seemed to be a solid black form, thick and impenetrable. Moving closer to the window Arthur tried to see anything of the world outside of that window, but try as he might he couldn’t - it was like the world beyond this house, this room, just didn’t exist. Like it had been swallowed whole by the darkness.

 

Without realizing it Arthur had moved a hand up to place against the cool glass of the pane, the action seemed so familiar, yet hazy at the same time . . .

 

Arthur was suddenly violently jolted out of his musings by a flash of white light and the sound of a camera shutter. Spinning around Arthur gaped in shock as he saw the camera he’d set-up earlier taking picture after picture of the virtually empty room. Shaking himself out of his stupor Arthur rushed towards the camera - the second he touched it the pictures stopped and the camera was inactive once more. Arthur looked around the room frantically to see if there was anything in the immediate vicinity that could have caused the camera to go off . . . But how could anything of caused that? Arthur hadn’t set up any trip-wires, he’d never even set the thing up on the tripod properly. Picking the camera up he inspected it thoroughly but found nothing that could have caused it to spontaneously go off as it had. Placing the camera back on its tripod Arthur caught sight of the small pile of Polaroid photos that had been ejected from the camera lying on the floor. Picking the pile up Arthur began to flick through the developing images. The first few were ordinary enough, just pictures of the wall in front of the camera but the last one, the last one shouldn’t have even have been possible. It was impossible for the Polaroid camera to zoom in, there was simply no function for it, so then how was Arthur holding an image of the wall in extreme close up? An image that showed a piece of frayed, slightly peeling wallpaper. Curiosity peaked Arthur tucked the picture into his back pocket and moved towards the wall the camera had snapped.

 

Sure enough there was the peeling paper. Resting his hand on the wall, his finger grazing the line just under the curled wallpaper Arthur couldn’t help the sudden urge to rip the paper the rest of the way off, just to see what was on the wall underneath.

Just as he was about to give in to the urge the door opened and the withered face of Gauis appeared. Arthur pulled his hand back from the wall as though it burned.

 

“Is everything all right Mr Pendragon?”

 

“Fine . . . It’s - everything’s fine.”

 

“Are you sure? Only it’s quite late and I heard some noise from in here.”

 

“It’s nothing, some of my equipment played up that’s all.”

 

Arthur got the impression that his attempt at a reassuring smile was actually anything but. Gauis stared at him for a moment longer clearly disbelieving Arthur’s story before he seemed to give in and began to back out of the room once more.

 

“Well, if you’re sure . . .”

 

“Actually, Gauis, do you have a phone that I can use?”

 

“It’s a little late to be making phone calls don’t you think?”

 

“ I know, just want to phone the institute and leave a message on the machine - no one will be there at this time anyway and I forgot to check in earlier.”

 

“Alright then, I must warn you though there’s no guarantee of getting through - the phone lines don’t work very well up here.”

 

With that he indicated for Arthur to follow him and left the room. The phone, it turned out, was up the stairs and at the very end of the corridor isolated from all the rooms on that floor, which frankly seemed like a strange place to keep a phone - but then, if you rarely have the opportunity to use it then Arthur supposed he wouldn’t want it in the way either. Lifting the receiver he was found the line was dead - of course it was, it’s not like anything else ever goes right for him, why should this. Turning to the old man who still stood close Arthur asked.

 

“Gauis, is there anyway of contacting my facility from here - it’s just I will need to and with the house being so far from the village it would make my life so much easier to be able to phone from here.”

 

“I’m afraid there isn’t - like I said, the phone lines aren’t very good up here - I can’t remember the last time they were actually working long enough to make a full phone-call. I’m sorry, but if you need to contact anyone then you’ll have to drive to the town to do it - I’d be more than happy to take you in the morning, although they may not be so willing to help if they knew you’d come from here.”

 

“What do you mean? I get that you believe this place is haunted but why does the whole town avoid it like the plague? Why did they look at me like I was carrying a death sentence when mentioned its name?”

 

Gauis looked worried now.

 

“I shouldn’t, it’s not my place - and besides, some things are better left in the past . . .”

 

“Gauis, what is it you’re not telling me?”

 

The older man looked uncertain for a moment before he seemed to give in.

 

“If you want my advice Mr Pendragon, then leave. Leave this house, leave this town, and never look back. Did they tell you about the curse?”

 

“What? . . . Someone did briefly, but I don’t buy into mass superstition.”

 

“It’s not superstition my boy, I only wish it were. Listen to me, something terrible happened here . . .”

 

“Gauis!”

 

Both men turned at the sound of the voice to find Merlin standing just down the hall, he looked annoyed as he approached them.

 

“Gauis, you can’t go around trying to scare people off with your tales of curses and secrets - I’m sure our  _guest_ doesn’t want to hear what some crazy people from the town say about this place.”

 

“He deserves to know the truth Merlin.”

 

“The  _truth_ is that you’ve been on the whiskey again before bed and you’ve been spending too much time in the town listening to the rumor mill churn, I’ve told you to ignore them but now it sounds like you believe them.”

 

“We both know I do.”

 

“More fool you - now go sleep off that nightcap, your breath reeks of alcohol.”

 

Casting one more worried glance in Arthur’s direction, Gauis disappeared down the hall to his own room.

 

Once he was gone Merlin turned back to Arthur.

 

“Are you o.k.? He didn’t freak you out too much with all that talk of curses did he?”

 

“No, I’m fine - after all talk’s all it was.”

 

“Exactly . . . You should get some rest, it’s been a long day.”

 

And then he was gone and Arthur was left with the strangest feeling that even when he figured out the real cause of the so called-haunting, he’d still only of just begun to scratch the surface of the mystery that surrounded Avalon and Camelot House.

 

TBC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it until Christmas. I hope you enjoyed this chap. Please remember to review if you have the time – it'll help motivate me to start writing again if I survive all my assignments! :)


	6. Visions and Secret Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I was taking a break until Christmas and that it's now February but there are a couple of reasons for that in case anyone's interested. Firstly I watched the last episode of Merlin at Christmas . . . and it broke me. It took a week of watching my Merlin box-sets with unlimited chocolate to console myself afterwards. The other reason I’ve been away from my fanfics for so long is that there have been some concerns about my health recently and I've been under a bit of stress going to be poked and prodded at doctor's appointments only to be told that they can't tell me exactly what's wrong and I need to go to hospital instead. That isn't until March though so until then I'm going to catch up with my fics and try not to think about it too much. Anyway, I've bored you enough – so, here's the new chapter! Enjoy! :)

 

**Chapter 6: Visions and Secret Conversations**

 

  

 

_Dark. It was so dark. He tried to open his eyes, but there was some kind of pressure keeping them closed. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe! There was no air! Why was there no air? He was suffocating . . . no, not suffocating – it was something else. He fought to open his eyes again, this time succeeding, but all he saw was blurred, half-images of the world around him. It was dark where he was, the light was limited and above him, he could hear what sounded like . . . chanting? There were people . . . somewhere close, but he couldn't see them. He could hear their shouts, distant as they seemed, they sounded angry . . . murderous even. They kept saying the same words, or at least it sounded the same to him – he couldn't really hear. The words were distorted, like he was listening to them from underwater. Underwater. He tried to gasp but again there was no air, the only thing he could feel seeping in and filling his lungs was water. He wasn't suffocating, he was drowning! Desperately he tried to fight against the force of the water pulling him down, but he couldn't it was like he wasn't in control of his own body. There were hands, he realized. There were hands on his body, his arms, his neck, his head, they were gripping him tightly, so tightly it hurt. They were pushing him, they were pushing him under the water and there was nothing he could do to stop them. His struggles were futile, his body refused to respond to his desperate commands, it was like his body was not his own. Like he was just a bystander who had no choice but to watch as the life drained out of him. As his vision began to fade from blurry to black all he could think was, ‘I’m dying. I’m dying’._

 

 

Arthur jolted awake. Gasping for breath he found his lungs mercifully filling with air. A dream. Thank God it was just a dream. Allowing himself a few moments to calm his breathing and slow the rapid beat of his heart, he thought back on the nightmare – there was something strange about the dream, he'd been too caught up in the panic of his unconscious situation to notice before, but now, now he knew there was something peculiar about it. The dream had felt real, there was no denying that. It had felt so very, very, terrifyingly real – but that wasn't what was bothering him, no what was bothering him was how disassociated he had felt from the dream. It had seemed to him as though he was there in the water, he'd felt the burning of his lungs, the pressure of the water and unknown hands and yet, it was almost as if the dream was not meant for him. As if it wasn't really him that was drowning in the nightmare, rather he was experiencing the horror through another's eyes. The _true_ victim's eyes – but that didn't make sense . . . there was no _true_ victim, it was just a dream! It was just a dream, so why did it feel like he'd just gotten his first glimpse of truth since he'd arrived in this town?

 

 

!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!

 

 

Arthur splashed water onto his face, the coolness of the liquid acting as a balm to his overheated skin. His mind was racing, no matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t stop thinking about the dream . . . the nightmare – it was so real . . . but at the same time he’d felt so displaced from it, so removed like it wasn’t happening to him, wasn’t meant for him at all . . .

  
  


Sometime throughout his troubled musings Arthur noticed that the tiny bathroom had gotten colder. Slowly bringing his hands away from his face, Arthur watched in fascination as his breath came out like smoke in the cold air. How could the room have gotten so cold so fast? He felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end in response to some unknown sense of threat. Something was wrong here . . .

 

Slowly raising his eyes upwards the man nearly gasped in shock at what he saw. There, in the corner of the mirror, was a stretch of frost – and it was growing, spreading before his eyes until the whole of the bathroom mirror was covered with it. Frozen out of fear or curiosity, he couldn’t tell which, Arthur stared at the unbelievable sight before him for a moment. It just wasn’t possible, there was no way something like that could’ve happened – there had to be some kind of explanation. Had it of been winter Arthur would have blamed the natural cold of the season and the considerable age of the house, but as it was, it was spring and the weather of late had been particularly kind. So just what the hell had caused this?

 

Reaching up tentatively, Arthur brushed away a layer of the gathering frost. Immediately he wished he hadn’t. His eyes nearly bulging from shock he took in the sight before him. There, in the mirror behind him, was the woman. The same woman from his old nightmare, the same woman he saw at the train station and in the woods on his journey to Camelot House. The same woman whose face haunted him but whose identity eluded him. Heart racing Arthur sucked in a terrified breath and whirled around to face his tormentor and came face to face with . . . nothing. There was nothing and no-one behind him except the old creaking door to the bathroom. Turning back around to confirm to himself that it wasn’t his imagination, that what he’d seen was real he found the glass of the mirror clean, no sign that there had ever been frost marring it, no trace of what had occurred whatsoever, and the only face reflecting back at him from that pristine surface was his own.

 

 

!+!+!+!+!+!+!+!

 

Practically running down the steps to the ground floor Arthur knew he had to get out of this house, he needed to get in contact with the institute, to clear his head, speak to Leon and get his mind back on the right track. It was the only way he held any hope of completing this investigation. He never should have agreed to take this job, not so soon after his father's funeral, he clearly wasn't mentally prepared for work just yet. It didn't help that in the months following Uther's death, Arthur hadn't been sleeping properly, and the few occasions he had managed to rest had been plagued with dreams of the unknown woman. The stress and lingering grief was obviously taking it's toll on him now, it was the only explanation for what he'd seen. Well, the only explanation outside of 'he was just going crazy'. If he could just clear his mind, refocus on the task at hand, then these delirium-driven visions would stop he was sure of it.

 

Reaching the bottom of the staircase Arthur paused when the sound of muffled voices reached his ears. Curiosity peaked he cautiously moved towards the location of the noise. Peeking through the slightly ajar door, into what was apparently the kitchen, he caught sight of Merlin and Gaius both talking lowly to the other - whatever it was the two were discussing, from their expressions and gestures it was obviously serious . . . And a private matter. Ordinarily after seeing something so clearly personal Arthur would’ve left them to it - he never was one for blatantly eaves-dropping on other people’s business - but he couldn’t bring himself to do it this time. There was something strange going on here and Arthur knew he would not get the answers he craved by asking the family directly - they were hiding something, of that he was certain and Arthur was intrigued to know just what it was they were so keen to keep concealed. So he stayed, moving far enough back from the door to ensure he would not be seen should either man glance in his direction but close enough to still have a clear view inside, Arthur strained his ears to listen to the hushed debate.

 

“This is wrong Merlin, you know it as well as I.”

 

“But what else can I do? I’m all out of options here Gauis.”

 

“Is that really what you believe? Can you honestly tell me that you’re comfortable with this? Are you certain you can go through with it.”

 

“Do I have a choice?”

 

“There is always a choice my boy.”

 

“Maybe that was true in the past . . . but now, now I’m not so sure . . .”

 

“Perhaps if you gave it a little more thought . . .”

 

“I’ve had more than enough time to think wouldn’t you agree Gaius? I‘m not sure there‘s anything left to think about.”

 

“But it just seems so . . . drastic.”

 

“Well, they do say desperate times call for desperate measures.”

 

“We’re not even entirely certain we can trust . . . After all, you remember what happened last time don’t you Merlin?”

 

“Of course I do! You really think I could ever forget? When I live with the consequences every day? I just want to make it stop. To make it all go away and I’m honestly losing hope that it ever will. What if it’s too late?”

 

“Now I don’t believe that for a second. The Merlin I knew was strong, so very strong. He would keep fighting no matter what. He knew that when all else seemed lost, one thing would always remain - hope.”

 

“And what if the Merlin you knew doesn’t exist anymore?”

 

“Oh, he does. I know he does. Whatever you may believe about yourself, when I look at you, I see him. You’re still the same remarkable person you always were Merlin, never doubt that.”

 

“But regardless of character there are some storms no man can weather, no matter how much they’ve proven they can endure . . . I’m scared Gaius, for the first time I am truly afraid.”

 

“And there is no shame in admitting that . . . Merlin I know I can’t change your mind, but I would ask you - beg you - please be careful. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing and I wouldn’t like to see the fallout if something went wrong.”

 

“Thank you for your concern Gaius, it means a great deal, but you needn’t worry. After all I’ve been playing this dangerous game for a while now and at this point there’s really nothing left for me to lose.”

 

Moving back from the door, Arthur flattened his back against the wall next to it and tried to make sense off what he’d just overheard. Why was Merlin afraid? What drastic action did he need to take that Gaius was so wary about? What kind of 'dangerous game' was he playing? And just how long had he been playing it for? If Arthur had hoped that listening into the conversation would answer the questions he held about the family he was sorely mistaken. He now had more questions than ever – a new fire of determination to find the truth beginning to roar inside him. Just what the hell was going on here? Whatever it was, Arthur was going to make damn sure he didn't leave without the answer.

 

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have the time any and all reviews are greatly appreciated. :)


	7. The Attic

**The Attic**

 

Giving himself a few more moments to try and process everything he had just heard, Arthur took a calming breath and quietly took a few steps away from the door - just enough to make it seem to the two men in the kitchen that he had just arrived at the room and so couldn’t possibly of heard any of their whispered conversation. Bracing himself for the front of ignorance he was about to put up Arthur made quick (and sufficiently loud) work of retracing his steps and entering the kitchen, he was certain his expression and actions betrayed nothing to the two relatives he was now faced with. Upon Arthur’s entry into the room, both had immediately looked in his direction, Gauis’ countenance had given nothing of the serious nature of his recent worries, but then Arthur hadn’t really expected it to - after all it was clear that whatever was going on with the family, they were well-versed at hiding it. Merlin was different though, when Arthur had first entered the room he noticed that when the beautiful young man had caught his eyes, for the briefest of moments he looked almost . . . surprised to see him before the impenetrable mask descended over the his emotions once more. There was something about Merlin, Arthur didn’t know how he knew but he did, he just knew that Merlin wasn’t like the rest of the family, there was something else there when he looked at the stunning raven that he didn’t see with the other’s, something more. Yes, there was something about Merlin, he just couldn’t put his finger on it . . . not yet at least.

 

In the end it was Gauis that broke the initial momentary silence, bringing Arthur out of his musings on the fascinating creature that was Merlin.

 

“Mr Pendragon, I trust you slept well.”

 

With great reluctance Arthur tore his gaze away from the boy that was by now resolutely avoiding it and resettled it on the older male.

 

“Yes, thank you. The room is very . . . comfortable.”

 

“Glad to hear it, would you like some breakfast?”

 

“Perhaps a little later, I really should start unpacking my equipment if I’m to start any kind of investigation of the property today. Although, I did have a question to ask - that’s why I’m here actually - to find you.”

 

“Oh, and what question would that be sir.”

 

“Well, as you know, I didn’t have much luck attempting to phone the institute on my arrival here last night - you said yourself that the only way I could get a decent line was to be taken into the town to call. I was wondering if that might be possible . . . today if it’s not too much trouble.”

 

“Well, I don’t see . . .”

 

“I’ll take him.”

Both Arthur and Gaius turned to face Merlin as he spoke suddenly.

 

“There’s really no need, I’m perfectly capable.” protested Gauis.

 

“I said I’ll take him. You need your rest Uncle - besides, I need to drop in on Gwaine anyway.”

 

With a nod from the elder it seemed the decision between them was done. Turning to face Arthur Merlin spoke again.

 

“Do you have a time in mind?”

 

“Nothing specific, no - but if you already have plans in the town . . .”

 

“Nothing that needs a schedule.”

 

“Well, I really do have to get on with my investigation this morning so that I at least have something to report. Sometime this afternoon perhaps?”

 

“Whenever you’re ready. I have nothing of urgent importance to do today, although I would prefer to get there before Gwaine’s too far into his cups.”

 

“Well, whenever you feel would be best. Just come and find me. And, thank you, I appreciate it.” With that Arthur left the kitchen and its occupants behind. After all he had a job to do.

  
!+!+!+!+!+!

  
Two hours later Arthur had successfully managed to unpack most of his equipment, deciding upon the most appropriate places to place it as he went. He couldn’t deny that the urge to snoop in each of the rooms, to sweep them for tricks or . . . anything that could shed a little light on the family he was working for was strong, but it seemed every time he turned around one of the siblings was close by. It was almost as if they knew his intention and were deliberately keeping an eye on him - so acting on his impulse was completely out of the question . . . for the moment at least. The only reason Arthur abided the burn of eyes watching him so quietly is because he knew he would get his chance, when he got around to performing his thorough investigation, he would require the family to be absent. Then, he could use his time not only to dispel the family’s fears, if in fact they were genuine, but also to gain some insight into the mystery that seemed to surround them. For now though, he was simply setting up, so he’d just have to grin and bear the scrutiny.

As Arthur fixed a particularly tricky motion detector in place on the floor of one of the bedrooms he managed to accidentally knock his arm against the leg of the table next to him. Reaching out lightening quick, Arthur managed to steady the table and catch the object that had fallen off before it could smash on the ground. Looking down at his catch, Arthur found himself holding a photo frame, a photo frame that held a very striking picture of Merlin. Arthur found he couldn’t look away from the replica of that pale face. Of all the family Merlin was the biggest mystery - it was him that Arthur felt a need to . . . know in some way, he was strangely drawn to the beautiful man and he knew that above all else, he couldn’t leave this case, this town, without knowing what the younger man was so desperate to hide. What was it that truly haunted that remarkable man? Even in the dusty picture Merlin’s eyes were breathtaking, they seemed to sparkle in a way that made Arthur ache, a deep sense of longing filling him. Without him noticing, his fingers had begun to brush against Merlin’s face, grazing the glass almost reverently.

“So did you figure that trying out the psychic approach for yourself was worthwhile after all then?”

Turning quickly Arthur looked up to see Gilli stood in the doorway, a look of pure smug satisfaction on his face.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Well, it’s just the way you were fondling that photo - that’s what psychics do isn’t it? Touch something personal to get a sense of a person’s presence or whatever?”

Somehow Gilli managed to make the words drip with sordid innuendo. Arthur felt his patience snap.

“I don’t know what you’re really implying here and I’m not sure I want to but I don’t have time for your little games. The frame fell, I caught it, end of story.”

Standing up Arthur placed the photo back on the table before starting towards Gilli.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me I still have work to do.”

As he tried to brush past Gilli he found his escape stopped by a hand to his arm. Looking down at the hand and then up to Gilli’s face, Arthur raised his eyebrow expectantly.

“I’m warning you, stay away from my brother. Whatever fascination you may have with him, It stops now.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It is if you want it to be. I’m just giving you a little advice before you dig your way in too deep with this - believe me when I say you won’t like where it leads, and by then it’ll be too late to get back out.”

“And how do I know that you’re not just saying this as some sort of twisted game?”

“Let’s get one thing straight here Pendragon, I may have been the one to suggest you take the case, but I don’t like you. I just don’t want to have to deal with the mess when this all goes wrong for you.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“Believe me, don’t believe me - I really don’t care . . . Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With that Gilli released Arthur’s arm and walked away, leaving the blonde more confused than ever.

  
!+!+!+!+!+!

  
Walking along the corridor between the house’s numerous upper rooms, Arthur mentally calculated where he’d set up he’d set up his equipment. Glancing towards the door at the end of the walkway he realized that there was only one room accessible on this floor that he hadn’t checked yet. The attic. Moving to the end of the hall, Arthur opened the door and quickly ascended the flight of stairs beyond it, eager to finish setting up so he could get some real work done.

The attic was fairly spacious, but poorly lit despite the daylight hour. The windows were caked in dust and grime and let precious little light into the room. From what he could see the level of dust was much the same on everything. Clearly no one made a habit of coming up here. Arthur moved towards the window intent on wiping part of it clean so that he could see better when a rustling in the far corner stopped him. Arthur turned in the direction of the sound and saw nothing but a chest of drawers and a few boxes with a musty old blanket covering them.

The rustling came again.

Moving slowly, Arthur cautiously made his way over to the corner of the room. As he neared the boxes he could make out the faint outline of something under the blanket . . . And it was moving.

Steeling himself, Arthur grasped the edge of the blanket and, after taking a steadying breath, he pulled.

Arthur jumped back in shock as the blanket fell to the floor and a flurry of feathers and angry flapping wings emerged from beneath it and flew towards him. Stepping quickly back out of the way, Arthur knocked into the chest of drawers, he barely registered the sound of something falling and hitting the floor as he watched the beast . . . the pigeon fly over his head and up into the rafters.

“Fuck.” Arthur muttered to himself as he calmed his breathing. Standing up straight from his position leaning against the chest of drawers Arthur glanced down towards the makeshift birds nest he’d just disturbed and caught sight of something laying on the floor by the box. Surmising that this must have been the object he faintly heard drop Arthur bent to inspect it. It was a book, that much was clear - like everything else in the attic there was a thick layer of dust and dirt covering it. Opening it Arthur frowned as he scanned the pages. The book appeared to be written in some ancient, archaic language, one that he’d certainly never seen before - the formation of the letters looked almost medieval in origin. Arthur couldn’t help but wonder what the words contained in the book meant and what such a book was doing in the Emrys’ house. He didn’t know why, but he had the strangest feeling that if he knew the answers to those questions then he could figure out what the family was hiding. Turning the book back to the front page, Arthur’s eyes narrowed in on the one piece of writing he could actually read - a name.

Nimueh Waters.

Suddenly, he knew exactly where to start looking for answers.

“Arthur?”

Quickly dropping the book, Arthur covered it with the discarded blanket before standing and turning towards the new arrival.

Merlin stood at the top of the stairs eyeing Arthur with barely hidden curiosity.

“Merlin. Was there something you needed?”

Merlin continued to search Arthur’s face for the answer to some silent question for a moment before responding.

“I saw the door open and figured you’d be up here. No one else would have come up here after all . . . I just wanted to let you know that I’m going into the village in about ten minutes, you said you wanted a ride?”

“That’s great, thank you Merlin. You go on ahead, I’ll only be a minute.”

Merlin cocked his head to the side considering Arthur for a moment before finally nodding and retreating back down the staircase.

It was only after he was gone that Arthur felt he could breathe again.

  
!+!+!+!+!

  
The drive to the village was mostly silent, and yet Arthur didn’t feel uncomfortable. Despite his concerns over the case and the family itself, Arthur couldn’t help but feel at ease with the lithe man beside him. The road could have stretched on forever without a single word passing between them and Arthur still would have been perfectly content. As it was the journey ended all too soon as Merlin pulled the car up outside the homely pub that had been Arthur’s first real taste of Avalon. Exiting the car, Arthur watched as Merlin put the vehicle back into drive in search of somewhere more ‘suitable’ to park. Once the car had pulled fully away from the curb Arthur made his way through the doors of the tavern and towards the phone he had used on his first and only visit.

 

Picking up the receiver Arthur dialled a familiar number and waited for his call to be answered.

 

“Hello, Albion Psychical Facility . . .”

 

“Gwen, put Leon on.”

 

“Arthur? You were supposed to call when you checked in with the family last night, what happened?”

 

“It’s a small village, and apparently the house I’m investigating isn’t exactly phone-friendly. Could you please get Leon on the phone now? I need to speak to him.”

 

“Sure, just hold on a sec.”

 

A beat of silence followed as Gwen contacted her boss and explained the situation then a masculine but just as well-known voice filtered through the phone.

 

“Arthur? It’s Leon, how’s the investigation going so far? You find anything to disprove it yet?”

 

“Not yet. It’s . . . this one’s certainly and interesting one let’s put it that way. Listen I don’t have long – I want to find time to finish sweeping the house before I interview the occupants. I need you to check something for me.”

 

“What do you need?”

 

“Just some information about a ‘Nimueh Waters’ you think you could dig something up?”

 

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem . . . why do you think this could impact the case?”

  
“I think so, I’m not sure yet.”

  
“O.k. Tell you what, I’ll look into it - call me back in a day or so and I should have some information ready for you.”

  
“Thanks Leon.”

  
“Arthur? Maybe I’m just imagining it but you sound a little . . . off. Are you o.k.?”

  
“Honestly? I don’t know . . .”

  
“Look, you know I wouldn’t have let you take the case if you hadn’t insisted - I told you it was too soon after Uther . . .”

  
“My father shouldn’t effect my ability to do my job.”

  
“Yes, his death should. You’re human Arthur, you’re allowed to grieve.”

  
“So then let me deal with on my own terms. I’m better when I’m distracted.”

  
“O.k. just remember that you’re not superman, as much as you like to think you can, you can’t do everything by yourself . . . Just . . . Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, o.k.?”

  
“I promise, anyway, this case seems to be turning out to be quite the conundrum, and you know how I love a good mystery - who knows, maybe solving it will prove . . . therapeutic.”

  
“I hope so.”

  
“Bye Leon.”

  
“I’ll talk to you soon, bye Arthur.”

  
Arthur took the phone away from his ear and stared at it unseeingly for a few moments as his mind ran over the conversation with Leon. The monotonous drone of the dial tone was little more than a faint buzz in the quiet of the entryway in which he stood.

  
“You know, generally when someone finishes a phone call, they put the receiver down. After all, that does seem preferable to just staring at it as if you’re not entirely sure what it’s for.”

Turning sharply in the direction of the unexpected voice Arthur’s eyes met with and amused Merlin, leaning against the front door of the pub with his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Merlin.”

“Oh, so you remember me at least - I was starting to get a bit worried you’d contracted some kind of memory-afflicting illness with the way you were just staring off into space.”

“How long have you been stood there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Both Merlin’s face and voice oozed mischievous teasing but Arthur was in no mood for games, after a moment Merlin seemed to pick up on this . His smile dropped along with his arms and he stood up straight from his casual slouched position before speaking again.

“Not long. Only came in about two minutes or so ago - just long enough to see you making zombie eyes at the phone. So you can relax o.k. the details of your confidential business call remain unknown. Happy now?

Arthur could only nod.

“Great, well I don’t know about you but I could use a drink - in fact it’s pretty much a requirement for coming here to see Gwaine.”

With that Merlin brushed past Arthur and walked through the door leading into the bar, leaving the blonde to swallow his worry that Merlin may have overheard anything exchanged during the phone call and trail after the raven haired boy.

The second they entered the main bar area, the gentle, comfortable hums of chatter stopped immediately as all eyes in the room turned their way. ‘Great here we go again’ thought Arthur. He was beginning to wonder what it was about the people in this town that made them react to him as if he’d walked in covered in the blood of their children . . . except, now he realized . . . they weren’t looking at him, not this time, this time the looks of suspicion, fear and . . . horror? Were directed solely at Merlin.

Merlin was obviously well aware that it was his presence that had caused the sudden silence, he seemed to steel himself before making his way over to the bar and Gwaine.

  
TBC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any and all reviews are greatly appreciated! :)


	8. A Dangerous Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really short chapter this time guys! Just over a thousand words. So, sorry about the length but I was aware that this chapter was taking way longer than promised and I've been really busy lately - so rather than making you wait even longer for an update until everything calmed down, I decided to post this as is. Hope you enjoy it anyway! :)

**Chapter 8: A Dangerous Secret**

 

The people Merlin passed seemed to subconsciously move away from him as he passed by, even as at least thirty sets of eyes followed his path to the bar. Confused and uncomfortable with this unusual turn of evens Arthur shifted on the spot for a moment - looking over the sea of transfixed stares before turning his attention to their target, who by now had reached his destination and was leaning over the bar, as close to Gwaine as possible given the barrier between them. Gwaine himself stood straight, his back stiff, face tense and unhappy with a hint of simmering anger lying just beneath the surface. Hands on the bar beside where Merlin slumped, Gwaine scanned the occupants of the bar with cold eyes before practically barking out:

“Well? What are you all staring at? I damn well know I’m gorgeous but none of you have ever paid this much attention before - in fact why don’t you all take a picture, I’m sure that’ll serve you lot better than gawping like fish. I want all of you, as you were, in the next five seconds or I’ll be showing each of you the door individually.”

It seemed that the moment these words left the barkeeps mouth all eyes dropped instantly to the floor and away. The chatter resumed, but it was not as loud as before - it was now tentative, hushed whispers that filled the room. The whole thing did little to soothe Arthur’s growing sense of unease. Stepping quietly closer to the bar Arthur found that he craved any information he could get that might help him understand what had just happened - he positioned himself at such an angle so as to hear the softly spoken conversation occurring between the two men now hunched together over the bar, but also to seem as though he was too far away from Merlin and Gwaine to overhear the topic of their discussion should one glance up and catch sight of him. Studiously he pretended to be absorbed in reading a series of lists advertising the drinks currently on tap as Merlin looked pleadingly towards Gwaine - pleading for what, Arthur could not say.

“This was a bad idea Gwaine. Maybe, maybe it’s best if I just go.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk like that, don’t let them get to you.”

“But you know what they think of me . . . .”

“Why should you care what they think of you?”

“The better question would be how can I not?”

“Merlin . . .”

“They blame me, and they have every right to . . .”

“No, don’t talk like that.”

“Why not, it’s all my fault.”

“Stop blaming yourself - none of this is your fault, whether you want to accept that or not, it’s the truth.”

“Except it’s not is it? Deny it all you want but you were there . . . I don’t understand why you’re still trying to protect me, by all rights you should hate me just as much as they do.”

“Merlin . . .”

Whatever Gwaine had been about to say, he had obviously thought better of it. Glancing towards the pair with the corner of his eye in the sudden silence, Arthur caught how the bartender’s spine tensed as he flicked a glance in Arthur’s direction. The man’s gaze barely lingered for more than a moment but Arthur somehow felt that he’s been . . . Searched - as if Gwaine had looked into the very core of him and found Arthur wanting. Allowing the smallest of uncomfortable shivers to run through his body, Arthur turned his eyes back fully to the wall in front of him as the barman began to speak once more.

“I’m guessing that’s him?”

“Yes.” Merlin sounded strained.

“Has he had any luck yet, you know, with debunking the haunting?” Gwaine’s voice was almost a mocking sneer.

“Gwaine . . . Don’t”

“Alright, alright, touchy subject I get it. Look I know you want this to be over, maybe even more than the rest of them do, but are you sure bringing in . . . an outsider was the best thing to do?”

“No - If you want the truth, I don’t know what to do for the best anymore. I don’t know if I ever did. This, this is a last resort and besides . . . It’s too late to question it now. I-I should go, What you wanted to talk about will have to wait until another time - I’m sorry but here and now just isn’t an option anymore.”

“I understand, It’s my fault, I just didn’t think - I should’ve known the effect _they_ would have. We’ll talk soon, you just concentrate on getting your investigator friend here settled into his new job . . . And preferably the ins ands out of common manners, save his ears from twitching right off.”

Arthur’s back stiffened at that, turning his head slightly towards the bar, he saw that both men were staring straight at him. A wolfish grin, almost feral in it’s viciousness adorned Gwaines face as he spoke.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s not polite to listen in on other people’s private conversations? You may be some-kind of hot-shot where you come from princess, but here we understand the meaning of courtesy.”

Arthur floundered for a moment as he struggled to find a means of explaining himself and his actions.

“I’m sorry I . . .”

“Save it, it’s not important anymore. Merlin I’ll see you in a couple of days at the most - I’ll come up to the house to see you O.k.? Take care of yourself in the meantime.”

Arthur didn’t miss the significant glance that was thrown his way on Gwaine’s last words. Did the man really believe that Arthur posed any kind of threat to the raven? The insinuation was frankly insulting. It took more restraint than Arthur knew he possessed to bite back the retort that scorched his tongue, igniting a brighter blaze of repressed anger towards the barman that spread throughout his body as he swallowed it back and instead watched the two men before him say their goodbyes before following Merlin back out of the pub. And if he happened to spare a glance back through the doors to observe the smirk Gwaine directed at him, a smirk telling of a dangerous secret he could not know, then the fire did not let him dwell on it. Rage has a funny habit of allowing you to blind yourself to the details that really matter.

  
TBC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always any and all reviews are greatly appreciated! :)

**Author's Note:**

> * Welsh for 'Darkness.'  
> ** Welsh for 'From the darkness comes.'  
> *** Welsh for 'From the darkness comes the light.'  
> ****Welsh for 'The light that burns.'


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